


I Wished on the Moon

by elopingsun



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Suicidal Thoughts, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elopingsun/pseuds/elopingsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s knows he shouldn't be putting it off. He should have told Steve when the letter came last week, but he couldn’t seem to find the right way to break the news. </p><p>[In which Bucky is drafted and Steve picks fights.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. your number is up

**Author's Note:**

> The name of this fic is taken from the Billie Holiday song of the same name, recorded in 1935.

He knows he shouldn't be putting it off. He should have told Steve when the letter came last week, but he couldn’t seem to find the right way to break the news. Every time he tries to bring it up the words catch in his throat. He’s sure Steve can tell something if off but he hasn’t asked Bucky about it yet, and Bucky find’s it easier to maintain the semblance of normalcy for the time being, than to scrounge up the courage to face the truth. 

Bucky is burned out when he makes it home from the docks, he’s covered in dirt and dust and half-dried sweat despite the fact it is only fucking March and the air still has a chill to it. His stomach drops as he closes the door to their little run-down apartment and realizes Steve isn’t home. Bucky’s been working double shifts in an effort to save up some extra money, Steve should definitely be home by now, he’s always home before Bucky these days. He turns and heads back out into the night air without a moments hesitation, he’ll just sit around and worry if he stays here. It’s better to get it over with and go look for Steve now. 

The sun has finished setting and the dip in temperature is enough to make Bucky move quickly, Steve really shouldn’t be out in the cool air for too long, it’s a miracle he’s made it through most of the winter without catching the flu and his luck has to run out eventually. He isn’t surprised to find Steve, face flushed red with righteousness, glaring at his opponent with raised fists, his panting uneven breaths visible in the cold air. Bucky doesn't even think before he grabs the larger man and backs him into the brick wall of the alley, holding him there by his forearms, getting Steve out of fights has been second nature to him for over a decade. 

“I don’t know what your problem is, but this fight is over unless you want me to hold you and let him go to town.” Bucky tilts his head towards where Steve is standing for emphasis. He doesn’t have to look to know his fists are still raised. 

“Nah, little guy’s probably had enough as it is,” the man growls as he shoves Bucky off and proceeds to leave the alley without another word. 

They walk the few blocks back to the apartment in total silence. Once they’re inside Bucky kicks off his boots and rounds on Steve. 

“You have gotta stop picking fights Steve, I mean it! How many times am I gonna have to ask you before you listen?!” He feels like tearing his hair out, they’ve had this argument more times that Bucky can count but it never amounts to anything. 

“Buck you should have seen him, following this dame who kept asking him to leave her alone! Someone had to do something!”

“Why does that someone always have to be you?!”

“Buck listen…” 

“No! Steve, I’m not finished, I have just about had it up to here with you! One of these days your gonna end up in a hospital when I’m not there to bail you out!” Bucky makes the effort to uncurl the fists his hands have balled themselves into at his sides and he forces himself to take a deep breath, he just wants Steve to listen for once. 

Every time he thinks about leaving Steve here alone he feels sick. It’s like Steve is living in a fantasy world sometimes, like he thinks reality can’t touch him. Bucky just hopes the extra cash he’s been saving up is enough to help cover the medicine if Steve gets sick. Bucky can’t help the sigh that escapes as he looks down at his feet, a fresh wave of exhaustion hitting him. There is never going to be a good time to break the news to Steve but he needs to do it and it sure as hell isn’t getting any easier.

“I got drafted Steve. I’ve been trying to tell you since last week.”

He looks up at Steve when he hears his breath catch. His eyes are huge, surprise plainly written across his face. Bucky can hear Steve’s lungs start to struggle for enough air as the panic settles in.  

“Shit. Steve look at me, I need you to try to take a deep breath okay?” Bucky has helped Steve get his breathing under control more times that he can count. Moving closer he reaches out and puts a hand to Steve’s chest, knowing it helps him focus on each breath. When Bucky makes contact Steve jerks like he’s been burned. In the second it takes him to recoil Steve has already shut himself in the bedroom, door snapping shut with a sharp thud follow by the click of the bolt.

“Steve please, let me in. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just sprung it on you like that. Steve? Come on! At least let me know you’re still breathing in there!” Bucky gently rests his forehead against the door, feeling like this day is never going to end. How could he be such an idiot? The seconds seem to drawn out, taking longer and longer as Bucky strains to hear movement in the next room.

“Leave me alone.” The voice is quiet and far from steady but relief floods through Bucky as he gets confirmation that Steve hasn’t passed out. 

Bucky is sprawled across the couch attempting to read when Steve reemerges a while later. He keeps his eyes firmly on the line of text he’s been reading over and over for the last five minutes trying to focus on the words as Steve approaches him.  

“When do you leave?”

Bucky hates it, the way Steve’s voice is softer than usual, tentative in a way they normally aren’t with each other. He forces himself to look up and meet Steve’s red-rimmed eyes before he answers, he owes Steve that. “Two weeks from yesterday.”

Steve nods, jaw set, and doesn’t speak the rest of the evening. As Bucky crawls into the bed on his side of their room and tries to fall asleep, the divide between them feels bigger than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More updates coming soon! I have something like ten chapters outlined for this fic and I hope to post new ones at least once a week!


	2. too tired to pretend

Over the next few days Bucky can feel the weight of Steve’s silence slowly crushing him. Steve hardly looks at him and when he does he won’t meet Bucky’s eyes for longer than a few seconds before quickly looking away. Bucky can’t stand it, he feels like they are both tiptoeing around each other, afraid of what they will say if they dare to speak. He works himself ragged the rest of the week so that when he finally gets home he’s drop-dead tired and all he has to do to pass out is take a few swigs of the cheap whiskey he keeps on hand and close his eyes. 

Bucky is awake for all of ten minutes Saturday morning before he decides that he can’t take another minute of the tense atmosphere that has settled between them. He only has eight more days before he has to report for training and he refuses to spend them like this. 

“Lets go to Coney Island,” his voice seems too loud as it breaks the stillness but he can see a smile ghost across the corner of Steve’s lips before he nods in agreement. 

It’s unseasonably warm, the sunshine bringing the first feelings of springtime in it’s wake. They spend all day laughing and playing games, losing track of time as the tension between them dissipates. Steve insists Bucky let him buy cotton candy as an apology for the way he’s been acting. Bucky has one hell of a sweet tooth and when Steve looks at him, eyes wide with excitement, Bucky knows he couldn't say no even if he wanted to. As they eat, he catches himself staring at Steve’s full lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss the sticky-sweetness from them, and forces himself to look away before he gets caught gawking. 

When they make it home long after the sun has set Bucky’s is still chuckling to himself, his sides aching from laughter. 

“For the millionth time it’s not funny!” Steve punches Bucky in the arm to emphasize his point. 

“It isn’t my fault you threw up Rogers!”

“You are the one who wanted to ride the Cyclone! I told you it was a bad idea!” Steve’s exaggerated pout renders Bucky helpless and the giggles start all over again. When he regains control and wipes away his tears, the pout has been replaced by Steve’s familiar look of barely contained rage. 

“Oh come on Stevie! Can’t a fella have a laugh?” Steve huffs and rolls his eyes before giving up and stalking off to get ready for bed. 

He waits until he’s pretty sure that Steve is asleep before whispering softly, “Thank you for today Stevie.” 

Steve’s not there when Bucky wakes up but it’s Sunday and he can’t be bothered to get out of bed. He’s just getting around to making coffee when Steve stumbles back into the apartment with the beginnings of a black eye blooming across his cheek. 

“Jesus Christ Steve! What the hell happened?” There is a stain on Steve’s shirt from where he clearly tried to clean up his bloody nose before coming home and Bucky can’t decide if he’s more worried or angry. They just had this discussion for Christ’s sake. 

Steve’s only response is a shrug as he kicks off his shoes and empties his pockets onto the counter before going to toss his bloodied button down into the hamper. Bucky unfolds the wadded up piece of paper next to Steve’s keys only to realize it is a recruitment slip. As soon as he sees the ‘4F’ stamped across it his anger dissolves, if there is one comfort left in Bucky’s life it is the simple fact that there is no imaginable scenario in which Steve Rogers will be sent to war. 

When Steve reemerges Bucky motions for him to hop up into the usual spot on the counter so he can get him cleaned up. Steve almost never accepts help because he’s stubborn and determined to prove he can take care himself, but this is one of the exceptions. Bucky can remember the first time he came home to find Steve, squinting into a mirror dabbing blood from his split lip, one eye swollen shut. He’s still not sure how he convinced Steve to sit down and let him patch him up that first time but ever since then it’s been Bucky’s unofficial job. 

Once Steve is settled in from of him, Bucky presses a cool cloth to his eye and instructs him to hold it there while he starts gently wiping up what remains of his bloody nose.

“How many times are you going to try to join up?” His voice is soft, willing Steve to relax before he continues, “I’m glad they won’t take you Stevie. I know you’re not happy about it, but I like knowing you won’t be out there dodging bullets.” He lifts the cloth off of Steve’s eye and sets it aside, gentle fingers lingering over the bruised skin stretched across his delicate cheekbone. 

“Promise me you won’t go looking for fights while I’m gone Stevie, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you while I’m not here.” The weight of it hits Bucky all at once, what leaving means, his voice isn’t steady and he can’t meet Steve’s eyes anymore.

“Only if you promise to come home Buck,” and one of Steve’s hands is lifting his chin, forcing him to meet those blue, desperation filled eyes.

“Buck, look I…I lo…”

“Don’t say it Steve. I know. But don’t…we can’t.” He thinks this must be what drowning feels like, this sudden tightness in his chest threatening to overwhelm him completely. They’ve been skirting around this for so long. He can see all of his fears reflected back at him in Steve’s eyes, but there is certainty there too, and determination because of course Steve can’t back down, even now. He’s tired of fighting this, of trying to bury the way he feels because of social fucking expectations. 

“Stevie, can I kiss you?” 

The smile that lights up Steve’s face is the brightest thing Bucky has ever seen and he can’t help returning it.

“Come here you jerk.”

Then he’s kissing Steve, it’s just a soft press of lips but he feels like he’s on fire, every nerve lit up with the taste of him. After a moment Steve pulls him forward, hands clutching at his back until they’re slotted perfectly together. When they break apart Bucky laces their hands together and rests his forehead against Steve’s, waiting for the rasp in his breathing to quiet back to a normal level before picking him up and carrying him back to bed. 

The image of Steve sprawled out across the twin mattress, peering up at him through dark lashes, is more beautiful that Bucky has ever dared to imagine. When he can’t resist any longer Bucky joins him, straddling Steve’s thighs as he slowly untucks his undershirt and pushes it up his chest, fingers gently tracing the shape of his ribs. Steve sits up enough to pull the shirt off before tugging at the hem to Bucky’s shirt in return. 

Bucky strips out of the undershirt and leans down for another kiss in one fluid motion. He smiles against Steve’s lips when a roll of his hips earns a sharp inhale. His world ends and begins with Steve’s heartbeat against his where their chests are flush and all of the sudden he can’t remember why they didn't do this years ago. 

He breaks the kiss to nip along Steve’s jawline and suck a bruise into his neck before mouthing along his collarbone and licking a line down his chest. He takes his time as he works lower, pausing to look up and meet Steve’s eyes when he reaches the line of his pants, hands hovering over the belt buckle. 

“Jesus Buck, what are you waiting for? A written invitation?” The combative tone in his voice, despite the fact that Steve looks wreaked already, pupils blown wide, face and chest flushed red, makes Bucky huff out a laugh before making quick work of Steve’s pants and shorts as well as his own. 

Bucky can’t believe his luck as he presses a line of heated, lingering kisses over the sharp lines of Steve’s hipbones before moving lower. The sight of Steve’s cock, hard and already leaking, makes his mouth water, the wave or arousal is dizzying as it hits him. Bucky swallows him down in one swift motion, humming his approval as Steve lets out a choked moan. He takes his time, sliding his right hand up to rest on Steve’s chest, trying to monitor his breathing and heart rate through the haze that has settled into his brain. 

When Steve’s hips start to stutter against Bucky’s left arm where he’s pinned him into the mattress, he reaches down to tangle the fingers of his right hand into Bucky’s hair. Bucky hollows his cheeks and looks up to meet Steve’s eyes as he takes him deeper, the tip of Steve’s cock hitting the back of his throat, spilling hot streams of come as Bucky’s name escapes his lips. 

Bucky pulls back off of Steve’s softening cock with a ‘pop’ before shuffling up the bed to kiss him again, slow and languid, letting Steve catch his breath as well as he can without stopping. Bucky can’t help the loud groan when he feels Steve’s hand wrap around his dick, he’s still achingly hard and can’t be bothered to worry about the neighbors enough to keep quiet. 

He doesn't last long, hips thrusting into the the tight grip of Steve’s hand as he’s kissed senseless. When he comes with a muffled shout against Steve’s lips the world goes pleasantly blank.

Once Bucky regains his senses he realizes he’s probably crushing Steve with his bulk and rolls them over, wrapping Steve tightly in his arms, ignoring the way they are half-stuck together with tacky come. He traces tender circles over Steve’s back for a long time before either of them can be bothered to get up and get a wet towel to clean up with. 

The next morning Bucky goes to the docks and quits. Then he drops by the advertising agency where Steve works as an illustrator and tells them Steve’s once again come down with something and the doctor says he won’t be able to work for the next week or so. They have always been very accommodating of Steve’s health so Bucky can’t even bring himself to feel too badly about the lie as he makes his way home to where Steve is waiting for him. 

He grins as he pushes the bedroom door open, the morning sunlight is streaming through window, painting Steve’s exposed skin in shades of gold. Bucky stands mesmerized in the doorway for a minute, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, before moving across the room and crawling back under the covers and curling around him.


	3. like pieces of a puzzle

Growing up Bucky had never really thought anything of it, they way his crushes were always on the other boys in his class. Things got more complicated in high school, when those boys started asking girls out on dates. Sometimes he’d catch Steve looking at him, but he knew for a fact that Steve liked girls too and that was always enough to keep Bucky from making a move. 

Bucky’s family lived five blocks out from the queer neighborhood and the proximity made him acutely aware of the struggles anyone different faced. He’d seen enough by age thirteen to know that being himself meant running the constant risk of a beating or worse, an arrest, so he put up walls and locked the truest parts of himself away. 

He has fun, taking the never-ending string of gals out; he loves dancing and going to the movies and walks in the park, he doesn't mind holding hands and the occasional kissing, but whenever things start to get serious he breaks it off. When one of his dates tells him ‘he’d better stop talking up this Steve Rogers character or she’ll have to ask him out next’ Bucky gets the idea that double dating could be fun. 

Steve never really gets with the picture but Bucky is determined to find him a nice lady to settle down with. Bucky used to think he could pretend, could ask a girl to marry him, could raise a family; he’s always wanted kids. Overtime he realizes any woman he respected enough to consider deserved better than him lying to her for the rest of their lives. He’d resigned himself to bachelorhood by age twenty. Some nights, after a few drinks he finds himself stumbling into the backroom of one of the nearby gay bars, desperately clinging to his latest fling as he lets his walls down for a while. 

The last few days with Steve have been some of the best Bucky thinks he’s ever had. Lying in bed, still trying to shake off sleep, he thinks it’s almost laughable, how little has actually changed about their routine. His bed stays empty but otherwise they’re the same old _steveandbucky_. 

The sounds of Steve making coffee in the next room drift softly through the air and Bucky can’t help but grin. He’d never really let himself think about the possibility of Steve actually being his guy. Bucky hadn’t worried that Steve would reject him if he made a move, on the contrary, he’d been afraid Steve would say yes and then have to give up any chance at an easy life. 

He rolls over as the smell of coffee intensifies enough to actually get him up, only to see Steve, mugs in hand, leaned against the doorframe watching him. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at punk?” He scrunches up his face when his voice comes out as something between a croak and a yawn. 

“There is some fella in my bed.” 

Steve’s expression is warm as he crosses the room and Bucky feels his chest tighten at the sight as he sits up, reaching for his mug with a smile. It’s perfect really, the way Steve fits between his legs, back pressed against Bucky’s chest. They stay that way all morning, Steve getting out his sketchbook to pass the time while Bucky relaxes, pressing the occasional kiss to Steve’s neck and shoulders, tracing his hands lightly along his hips, and letting the contentment wash over him. 

Bucky thinks maybe this is what people mean when they say that home isn’s a place at all, it’s where your heart is; you leave it with the person you love the most. The thought makes him wrap his arms around Steve’s slender waist and pull him closer, burying his face in his hair. 

“Hey! You messed up my drawing you jerk!” There is no real heat in the words and Steve tosses the sketchbook away as he wriggles around until he is facing Bucky, gently cupping his face and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Steve takes advantage of Bucky’s surprise and licks into his mouth, hands moving to tangle themselves in his hair. Steve kisses him silly before pulling back with a knowing smirk. He looks up at Bucky through dark lashes as he slowly kisses a line down his chest, hands tugging at Bucky’s shorts. He’s half-hard already, something about the pretty picture Steve makes, licking those plush lips as a delicate blush spreads across his cheeks, does it for him. Steve’s intentions are pretty clear but Bucky remembers what happened last time Steve tried this. He’d been so determined to get Bucky off he’d had a full on asthma attack with Bucky’s dick in his mouth. 

“I don’t think so sweetheart,” he says pulling Steve back up, meeting Steve’s pout with a mischievous grin before kissing it away and moving to nibble his ear, “There is something else I want Stevie, want you to fuck me.” 

When he pulls back to looks at Steve he sees that his pupils are blown wide and his adams apple is bobbing as he struggles to swallow. Bucky manhandles Steve out of his lap and settles him back against the headboard before stripping both of them out of their shorts, grabbing the tub of vasoline and slicking up a finger. 

“You gonna enjoy watching me get ready for your cock Stevie?” The noise Steve makes as Bucky sinks a finger into himself is the dirtiest thing he’s ever heard and he can feel the flush creep across his face and down his neck. He works slowly, making sure to give Steve a show, drawing this out for as long as he can and losing track of time as a result. 

“Jesus, Buck.” He looks up at Steve when he hears his voice break. He's still propped against the headboard but now he’s panting, clearly struggling to avoid touching himself. His cock is leaking, begging for attention. 

“Touch yourself Stevie.”

“Can’t Buck or this is gonna be over before it even starts.” And Bucky can hear the strain in his voice, almost begging. 

“It’s alright Stevie, I can do this all day,” he purrs, fucking himself back on two fingers for emphasis. That’s all the encouragement Steve needs. He thrusts up into his fist once, twice, three times before he’s throwing his head back and letting out a horse moan as he comes.

Bucky beams, his free hand dipping into the come streaked across Steve’s stomach before bringing it to his lips and licking it clean. Steve watches him, biting those lips Bucky just can’t get enough of as he fights back a groan at the sight. 

By the time he’s got three fingers sinking into himself with ease he finds it a difficult to think. He’s achingly hard now, unable to focus on anything except the slide of his fingers when he feels Steve move around behind him, placing wet open-mouthed kisses down the length of his spine. He’s hard again and Bucky has never been more ready for anything in his life. 

“Mmm Steve, really want you inside me right now.” He almost doesn't recognize the sound of his own voice, hazy with pleasure and on the verge of pleading. 

“I got you Buck, let me know if I hurt you.” Then Steve is gently pulling on Bucky’s wrist and easing his fingers out. He can’t help the whimper that escapes when he is suddenly empty. Steve’s hands grip his hips and he shifts his weight forward over his arms. Bucky’s entire world narrows to the feeling of the head of Steve’s cock pressing slowly inside him and his brain shorts. 

“You doing okay Bucky?”

“Fucking fantastic Stevie,” he says, grinding backwards until Steve bottoms out, eliciting groans from both of them. Steve keeps his left hand firmly on Bucky’s hip while the other moves to trace reassuring circles along his back.

“Let me know when you’re ready.” 

Bucky takes a deep breath to steady himself before nodding. Then Steve is moving and Bucky can’t tell if the sensation is too much or not enough but he can’t bring himself to care. 

When Steve changes angles and hit’s Bucky’s prostate he cries out, hot sparks of pleasure shooting through his entire body. Soon his hips are starting to stutter and he’s struggling to keep pace when he hears Steve’s breathing start to hitch in a dangerous way. Reaching around behind him with one of his hands he stills Steve’s hips. 

“Hey there, no rush okay, catch your breath baby, don't want you passing out with your dick in me.” He grinds back onto Steve, hips making punishingly slow circles while he let’s him catch his breath. Then without any warning Steve is thrusting into him again, harder this time, his hands holding Bucky’s hips at the perfect angle. 

“Steve! God yes, Stevie, please!” He’s not even sure he's forming words anymore when he feels Steve reach around and start stroking him in time with the thrusts. He comes with another shout and feels Steve release inside of him almost immediately afterwards. His arms give out and they both collapse into a sweaty heap. When he comes back to himself he realizes Steve is talking to him. 

“You’re so good Bucky, so beautiful.”

His chest swells with warmth as he turns over and pulls Steve up into his arms to kiss him. Bucky doesn't care that they’re both a sticky mess, he never wants to leave, if he could stay here with Steve forever he’d die the happiest man on Earth.


	4. these are my people

On his last morning in New York Bucky wakes up with Steve curled into his chest. He places a kiss on the top of Steve’s head before attempting to get out of bed. The motion causes Steve to groan and tighten his limbs around Bucky to prevent further movement.

“Just a few more minutes Bucky.” He feels Steve speaking against his chest more than he hears him. A glance at the clock on the nightstand tells him he has a little time to spare.

He tries to memorize everything about this moment before it has to end; the slight rasp of Steve’s breathing, the feel of his heartbeat, the way his hair smells, the sensation of Steve’s hands clinging to his skin. Steve reluctantly lets him go the next time he moves but he can feel the weight of his eyes as he pulls on his clothing and finishes packing his things. 

“It’s just basic Stevie, I’ll be back before you know it.” The attempt at cheer falls flat even to his own ears. He looks over at Steve where he’s still curled up in bed, all sharp angles and pale skin, blinking sleep from his eyes, hair sticking up in ridiculous tufts.

Bucky forces himself to move to the next room to make coffee because he’ll be damned if he’s getting on the train without a proper start to his day. He’s just finishing when Steve creeps up behind him and he feels slender arms snake around his stomach as a warm kiss presses between his shoulder blades.

Bucky hazards a glance at his watch and he feels like he’s under water, everything moving in slow motion, drifting with a tide he can’t control. He turns in Steve’s arms, bending down to press a tender kiss to his lips before placing one on the tip of his nose and forehead, holding him close for a long time. 

“I gotta go or I’ll miss the train.” 

“I can walk you to the station if you want.”

“That’s okay Stevie, I can manage.” He says, picking up his bag and making for the door. 

Before he can open it there is a hand on his wrist, turning him around and backing him into the solid frame. The next thing he knows, Steve is pressed against him, pulling him down into a rough kiss. When they break apart they’re both breathless and shaking. 

“Be careful Buck.”

“You too Steve, see you when I get back.” He wishes the click of the door shutting behind him didn’t sound so final as he walks towards the train station. 

Bucky watches the out the window as the urban sprawl of New York disappears and the countryside opens up. When they arrive at Fort McCoy they’re met by First Sergeant Bloom who escorts them to their quarters. They’re told that their training will be shortened from the standard twelve weeks program to an accelerated eight week training period due to the dire need for reinforcement overseas. Each man is assigned a bunk and given a blank tag.

“Strip out of your civilian clothes fellas and put ‘em in your luggage. Write you're address on that tag. Keep your wallet. Everything else is going back home. Someone will be around shortly with uniforms.” The officer turns to leave once he’s given them the instructions and the men look around at their new companions, expressions a mix of surprise and anxiety.

Bucky takes a deep breath to steady himself. He can do this. He has to do this. He makes sure that his hands don’t shake as he writes his sister Becky’s address. No way is he sending his things home to Steve and causing a panic. He’d already asked Becky to look out for Steve while he’s gone. He knows Steve won’t accept money but the extra cash Bucky earned over the last few weeks is stuffed into a jar on the counter and not even Steve will turn down one of Becky’s homemade pies.

As Bucky lies awake attempting to go to sleep that first night, in a bed that feels strangely empty, he chokes the tears back before they can fall; he can do this. It’s gets easier after the first night, he can push his body through the physical drills with no problem, he's always been athletic, hand-to-hand combat is second nature to a Brooklyn boy, especially one who used to train with the boxers down at the gym from time to time.

He picks up tactics and code quickly. It makes sense, he’d always done well in school and in a lot of ways the army training isn’t any different, they tell him what he needs to know to survive and he commits it to memory. Slowly in this strange place, these unfamiliar people become his people; he thinks maybe things will be alright it they just keep their heads down and get through it together.

The first time holds a rifle all the noise around him seems to fade to a dim murmur and the world goes still, his breathing slows and he takes the shot. He can’t bring himself to be surprised when he sees he’s hit the target dead on, he knew the moment the bullet left the gun he would. He's promoted quickly after that due to his excellent performance records and knack for shooting. 

It would scare him a little if he stopped to think about it, how quickly he and the rest of his unit are transformed from fresh faced recruits into soldiers, but they don't have time to think, Europe needs them. The sun is just starting to rise over the fields of Wisconsin as newly promoted Sergeant James Barnes and the rest of the 107th board the train bound for New York. They have orders to ship out the next morning but at least he will get to see home again before he leaves for good.  
Despite everything, Bucky smiles as he walks through the New York streets, he’s home, even if it’s just for a moment. Most of the guys won’t see home again until the war is over, if they see it at all. 

He can’t even bring himself to be too angry when he finds Steve in the middle of getting his ass handed to him behind the local theater. Once he’s gotten rid of the latest in the long line of people he’s stopped from sending Steve to an early grave, he thinks briefly about taking Steve home and getting him cleaned up there. He decides against it, afraid that if he does, he won’t be able to leave again. At least there isn’t blood on Steve’s shirt, he thinks as they duck back into the theatre so Steve can spiff up in the bathroom.

Bucky can see the confusion in Steve’s expression at his obvious avoidance of home and he’s relieved when Steve doesn’t voice any of the concerns written across his face. Bucky cant help but feel this is the last time he’s going to get any semblance of normal for a while and he just wants to make the most of it. He can almost pretend this is just another one of the many nights he’s implored Steve to go out with him, chasing girls and going dancing. 

Even if he hadn’t set up dates with a couple of the nice gals who met the men at the train station, he and Steve would have ended up at the Stark Expo, there is almost nothing Bucky loves more than a good fair, except maybe science. And how could he turn the ladies down when they had been so eager to show the soldiers getting off the train a good time before they ship out.

When Bucky realizes Steve’s wandered off, it only takes him a second to hone in on the recruiting booth. They’ve had this discussion so many times that they could do it in their sleep. It’s easier this way though, having to casually say goodbye to Steve as if it isn’t the hardest thing he’s ever done. He drinks him in, making one last desperate attempt to memorize every detail, from the blue of his eyes under the streetlights to the defiant slant of his shoulder’s.

He hopes Steve can hear it, the I love you buried beneath the, “You’re a punk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll out of town for a bit but the next chapter should be up by the end of next week or so!


	5. shell shock

He sees Moreland go down. As soon as the shelling stops he's out of the foxhole and running. Screaming for a medic at the top of his lungs. Moreland is still conscious, Bucky gets to him but the look in his eyes tells Bucky he knows he's not going to make it. 

“I got you Moreland, you’re fine, just hang in there okay?” His hands are steady as he gets Moreland’s coat open enough to assess the damage. Bucky sucks in a breath when he sees the size of the gash in Moreland’s torso, there is no way his kit has enough gauze for this. He screams for a medic again as he presses the gauze down, desperately trying to stymie the bleeding. 

By the time the medic arrives the gauze is soaked through. Bucky’s not even sure what he's talking about anymore, spewing anything he can think of in an attempt to keep Moreland engaged. As the medics cart Moreland away Bucky looks down at his hands, blood covering his wrists and a third of his forearms, he hopes it was enough. 

Dum Dum finds him still sitting there a few minutes later “Come on Barnes, lets go find some water and get ourselves cleaned up.” 

As Dugan pulls him to his feet he thinks the chances of ever being clean again are pretty slim. 

———

“You know what I miss? Ms. Pauli’s Lemon Spongecake. You ever been to Ms. Pauli’s Bakery?” 

When Bucky looks over at him, Gabe has a pained expression on his face, clearly realizing that Ms. Pauli and her spongecakes are over 6,000 miles away. Then it dawns on him. 

“Now wait a minute Jones. You’ve spent the last two weeks yakking my ear off about Queens. Queens this, Queens that…and NOW you’re telling me you come all the way down to little old Brooklyn JUST for spongecake?!’”

Gabe’s eyes narrow at the incredulous look on Bucky’s face before he grits out a half-hearted, “….maybe…”

“Oh no!! You’re not getting away with that shit Jones! Say it! I want to hear you say it!” The smile spreading across Bucky’s face is wide and genuine. 

“Brooklyn has the best spongecake in New York.” 

Bucky cracks first, giggles bubbling up form deep inside his chest. Before long they are both doubled over with laughter. As Bucky tries to catch his breath he can almost smell spongecake wafting out of bakery doors and down the sidewalks of Brooklyn. 

———

Bucky smiles to himself as he takes a drag off his cigarette, to everyone else it’s the Forth of July but for him it’s Steve’s birthday. He can see the fireworks reflected in Steve’s eyes as they sit in the park under the Brooklyn Bridge, watching the sky light up. Flashes of Red, White and Blue against the Manhattan skyline, reflected in the river. He always watched Steve more that the fireworks, when he wasn't looking. 

The year Steve’s mom died he had refused to go watch the fireworks show. It had only been a month since she’d passed away and Steve couldn't bear the idea of getting older when she never would. Bucky had stayed home with him. He can still picture Steve, surrounded by his paints, fingers stained, chewing on the end of one of the brushes, that cute wrinkle forming between his brows as he squinted at his canvas, trying to get something just right. Bucky couldn't say what he had been painting to save his life. Somewhere in the distance he can hear explosions, he wonders if Steve will understand if he doesn’t want to see the fireworks next year.

———

The bullet that brings down Corporal Smith nicks the artery in his left leg. Bucky’s holding his head, telling him he’s going to be alright when the light leave his eyes. The medic is still trying to stop the bleeding when Bucky tells him Smith’s gone. He liked Smith, not that it matters. Lately they’ve seen more dead bodies that live ones. Bodies of American soldiers, German soldiers, civilians, livestock - it doesn't matter, death finds them all alike. 

He doesn't dwell on it, none of them do. They each tell themselves they will make it home. It’s the only way to keep moving. He wonders what Steve will see when he looks him in the eye, after seeing the things he’s seen, doing the things he’s done, he thinks it might be a miracle if Steve recognizes him at all. 

———

The blast from the mortar sends Bucky crashing to the ground. When the smoke clears enough for him to see, he gets up and starts running towards the nearest foxhole where Dum Dum and Gabe are hunkered down. He hears the second mortar whistle and dives behind a tree. He sees a third land near where Briggs is dragging a screaming Gray towards another foxhole. After it explodes he doesn't see either of them again. He crawls, clawing his way across the last 10 feet and rolls down into the hole. 

He knows he's shaking, huddled between Dum Dum and Gabe, his eyes screwed shut. Its awful being pinned down like this. They are helpless, unable to return fire, sitting ducks waiting to see if their time is up. When it goes quiet they stay down, it wouldn't be unusual for the Germans to try to draw them out and resume firing. When the shelling starts again all Bucky can think is, thank God Steve isn’t here.

———

It’s been a while since they’ve had a mission where Bucky’s had a proper snipers nest. They took the town two days ago and they’ve been told to hold it at all costs. He’s set up in the loft of a barn, watching the ditches lining both sides of the road for signs of German soldiers. 

Afternoon sunlight is slanting through the clouds, painting golden stripes across the abandoned fields. He’s more at ease then he’s been in weeks, up here he feels in control of something. There is a fall breeze blowing through part of the roof that has collapsed, he can smell apples from a nearby orchard. He wonders if the two German scouts can smell them before he puts a bullet through each of their heads. 

At least it’s quick. He always makes sure it’s quick. 

——— 

The first time they see HYDRA weapons is when they are captured. A new wave of horror washes over him as he sees people literally torn apart in the blink of an eye. Bucky thinks the eerie blue glow will haunt him until the day he dies; he doesn't expect it will be long.


	6. blurred

They determine Bucky is the highest ranking officer they’ve taken alive from the Sergeant’s insignia on his uniform. Bucky meets Dum Dum’s eyes briefly through the bars of the cell the other men have been locked in before he is forced down the hallway and out of sight. He knows the guys will be okay, they’ll take care of each other, they always have. 

The soldiers shut him in what appears to be an interrogation room. He doesn't know how long they leave him to sit in the dimly lit room but it feels like an eternity as the silence stretches on and on. There isn’t any furniture but one of the walls has a darkened window which he thinks must be one-way glass. The air is thick with humidity and it's stifling; he picks out patterns in the paint on the walls where it has bubbled and begun to peel to pass the time. 

He startles when the door abruptly swings open and two large men in uniform enter. Bucky is expecting to be questioned and he is caught off guard by the first blow; it’s a kick to the ribs that knocks the wind out of him and sends him sideways, before he can react he is sprawled out onto the floor, cheek pressed into the damp concrete. He manages to grab one of the soldier’s boots on the third or forth kick and tugs, trying to thrown the man off balance and earning himself a kick to the head from his companion for his trouble. He fights back as best he can after two days of marching with no food and little water but he can’t help but feel a sense of relief as everything starts to go a fuzzy and his vision fades to black. 

The next time he wakes up he’s strapped to a table. There is an IV taped to the back of his hand and panic races through him at the thought of something being pumped into his veins. He manages to move his hand enough grab the IV line and tug it until he feels needle slip out. A nearby monitor starts beeping almost instantly and the room is flooded with medical personal. He struggles against his restraints as a mask is lowered over his noes and mouth, holding his breath as long as he can in an attempt to stay conscious. One of the men laughs as a sharp elbow to his gut causes him to gasp. He waits for the sense of relief to set in as the room grows dim but it never comes. 

Bucky forces himself to stay as detached as possible after that. He slips away into the recesses of his mind or repeats his serial number over and over until he can’t focus on anything they say or do to him. He passes the time in a sort of half-dream, unable to tell reality from his nightmares. Sometimes he lets himself think about home, about Steve, it always makes it worse, knowing he’ll never see him again. 

When Steve’s face swims into view a calm start to blossom in Bucky's chest; at least if he’s finally gone crazy he’ll have his hallucinations as company. Then not-a-hallucination Steve is unstrapping him and forcing him to move. He's big, and he’s a soldier and suddenly nothing makes sense. Bucky tries to get his groggy brain to work again as he lets Steve drag him along, but everything is too bright and loud in comparison to the room they’ve kept him in. The harder he tries to think the more he feels like he’s groping in the dark for something that is perpetually out of reach. 

When he sees the man’s face peel away he gives up on trying to get a grip on the situation. The only thing keeping him from believing that he’s still asleep is that he knows that, in a million years, he’d never have dreamed Steve could be this huge. Steve who is still dazzling and brave and so damn determined to get Bucky out of this mess that he doesn’t seem to remember his own worth. 

As he watches Steve prepare to make an impossible jump Bucky thinks that maybe this is okay, he won’t mind dying that much now that he’s gotten to see him again, and as much as he wishes Steve wasn’t here he has to admit there is something poetic about the two of them facing down death the same way they’ve faced everything else in their lives; together. 

Then Steve actually makes it across and they’re off again and it’s all he can do to keep his feet moving. He lets everything else slip away. He’s more than happy to have someone else take charge of them all for the time being. 

They’ve been marching for a few hours when Steve calls a halt. He orders some of the men to form a perimeter and sets up a guard rotation. While he’s busy Bucky slips away. He and Steve have been throwing each other sidelong glances since they started walking, but neither one of them had seemed to figure out how to start a conversation and Bucky needs a moment alone to pull himself together where he’s clearly fraying around the edges. 

He is pretty sure he’s still within the perimeter they’ve established when Steve finds him. Every time he looks at Steve part of him still expects to see his little guy and he wonders if the shock of seeing him like this will ever truly fade. There is at least some comfort in the fact that, now that Steve isn’t fighting for their lives, he seems to still be trying to figure out how to move with his newfound bulk. It is almost enough to make Bucky laugh despite the heaviness that has settled into his bones.

“You okay Buck?” 

He feels the ghost of a smile flit across his lips at Steve’s voice as it breaks the stillness around them. He manages a shrug in response, everything from the last few weeks is hazy, it’s as if he’s trying to make out something at the bottom of a pond but the water won’t stay still enough for him to get a clear view. 

Bucky looks up to meet Steve’s eyes, searching for a way to make him understand, and finds himself overwhelmed by the realization that whatever Steve did to get like this, to get here, wasn't the least bit safe. He seizes onto his growing anger like a lifeline, letting it ground him in a way nothing else has been able to since Steve found him.

“What the hell were you thinking, volunteering for this shit?” He grits out, knowing without a doubt that this was all Steve’s idea, gesturing vaguely at his new body.

“I was thinking I might have a shot at helping win this war!” There is no apology in Steve’s tone and Bucky can feel his blood hit the boiling point.

“You promised me you’d be careful! You could have died!” He keeps his voice low despite the fact he’s seething, he’s pretty sure they are still close enough to be within ear shot of the rest of the camp if they’re not quiet. 

“Well lucky for you I didn’t!”

Bucky can hear the challenge in Steve’s voice loud and clear, he’s heard him pick a fight a thousand times. He stalks over to Steve and shoves him back into one of the surrounding trees, his hands fisted in the uniform stretched across a chest that seems to go on for miles. It’s strange, being able to hold his eye contact on the level. He can feel Steve’s new heartbeat where they are pressed together, it’s steady but it’s beating too fast, echoing all of his hopes and fears in perfect time. 

Suddenly Bucky can’t take another second without having Steve’s lips on his. When he surges forward it isn't gentle, there is no place for sweetness here. Steve tastes the same, he thank's the God he isn't sure he believes in that they haven’t taken all of him, just fixed him up enough to send him into this hell. 

Steve’s hands grope his ass, pulling him closer until their bodies are flush, and Bucky can't contain the moan that bubbles up from deep inside his chest. Steve is smirking when they break apart; for a moment it’s like they are thousands of miles away, safe at home, not a care in the world.

“Like the new merchandise?”

Bucky can’t decide if he wants to kiss Steve again or punch the damn smirk off of his face so instead he raises an eyebrow and drags his hands down from where they are still balled in Steve’s uniform along his torso to the front of his pants. 

“Haven’t seen it all yet.”

Judging by the strained look on his face Steve is trying his hardest to keep his composure. 

“Come on Bucky, someone will catch us!” The cautioning tone in Steve’s voice is betrayed by the heat in his eyes and Bucky knows he’s won when Steve doesn’t even try to stop him from unbuttoning his fly.

A wave of desire rolls through him as he pulls Steve’s half-hard cock out of his pants. It only takes a few deft strokes before Steve is fully hard and biting back a cry. 

“Fucking hell Stevie,” he manages to swallow, “we had better make it back to base because the things I want to do to you are gonna take a lot more time than what we have now.”

Before Bucky can make another move Steve is fumbling with the buttons to Bucky’s pants and the next thing he knows he is being pulled forward. Steve wraps his hand around them both, stroking in time with Bucky. He tips his head forward to meet Steve’s lips and muffle the quiet groans they’re both too far gone to hold back. It doesn't take long before they’re both panting and close and all Bucky wants is to see Steve come.

“Let go Stevie, I got you,” is all he can get out before Steve is rucking up his shirt, his come streaking Bucky’s abdomen. The sight of him is enough to push Bucky over the edge. 

He’s pretty sure he’s crushing Steve against the tree, the way he's using him as a support but he can’t bring himself to care. Steve is pressing soft kisses to his temple and as the tension slowly dissipates Bucky realizes that he hasn't felt this relaxed since before he shipped out for basic. He relishes the feeling for as long a he can before Steve gently pushes him upright and tucks them both back into their pants. 

“We should try to get a few hours of sleep Buck.”

He makes a noncommittal noise but follows Steve back into the heart of their camp, fighting back a yawn. Sleeping hasn’t come easily to him since he got here but Bucky starts to drift off as soon as his head touches the ground, he can feel the heat radiating off of Steve’s body a foot or so away and it is all that he’s ever needed.


End file.
